


As We Go

by timehopper



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24815380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: The war is over. It's time for everyone to go their separate ways, to return to what their lives should have been before everything was turned upside-down. Ashe must return to Rowe, to his siblings, and Sylvain to Gautier. It fills him with an ice-cold sense of dread: could these kisses, stolen in the dark corners of a fallen emperor's palace, be both their first and their last?Sylvain squeezes his hands, and in one breath, changes Ashe's world. “You still want to be a knight?”The war ends. Sylvain invites Ashe to Gautier. Ashe accepts the offer of knighthood, and together, they explore the feelings they had put aside during the war.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 63





	As We Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bananly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bananly/gifts).



> This fic was commissioned by Bananly! I really like Sylvashe, so it was a lot of fun getting to write this fic and exploring the dynamic of their relationship as it's just beginning. Right as the honeymoon phase is about to kick in...
> 
> Enjoy! ♥

_ “Move!”  _

Ashe hears the warning in the same instant he pivots away from the sword coming for his head. Its owner crumples to the ground before the swing can complete its full arc, and there Sylvain stands, wrenching the Lance of Ruin from the body. He turns to Ashe, worry drawn tight over his face until it’s slowly replaced by relief.

“I had him,” Ashe says, weary. And it’s true, he had; his arrow is still nocked, and had Sylvain not stepped in, he would have been able to fell the imperial soldier easily. Still, he’s grateful for the assist, and he finds a smile tugging at his lips to mirror Sylvain’s. 

“I know, I know...” Sylvain holds his free hand up placatingly. “You can handle yourself. I just can’t help it sometimes, you know? When I see someone in danger, I just have to help. Isn’t that the knightly thing to do?” 

Ashe rolls his eyes, albeit fondly. They hardly have time for this moment of levity when everyone is still fighting around them, when His Highness and the professor have gone on ahead to the throne room, ready to end this war once and for all, but he finds himself enjoying it nonetheless. It’s easy to forget, in the chaos of war, that he’s still among friends.

But it’s not over yet. Edelgard’s soldiers are still fighting, still pushing the remaining Blue Lions back, still coming for them with spears and swords and - and an axe raised above Sylvain’s head--

“Look out!” This time it’s Ashe’s turn to shout a warning, to loose an arrow before Sylvain’s assailant strikes him down. The soldier falls, and another one takes his place, but Sylvain sees him coming and stands his ground. He lifts his lance, draws his arm back-- 

And then, suddenly, a scream - shrieking and inhuman, echoing from the throne room. Everything stills: soldiers freeze in their tracks, heads turning this way and that as they search for the source of the noise. And then… 

A rumble. Voices. A small collection of shouts, quiet at first, then louder, louder--

Laughter. The clang of weapons falling to the ground. Raucous, crescendoing cheers.

_ They’ve won.  _

Ashe looks to Sylvain with wide eyes. The soldier he had been about to kill drops to his knees, the fight knocked clean out of him at the realization that he no longer has to continue. That he no longer has to  _ die _ . Sylvain's grip on the Lance of Ruin trembles a moment, and then the weapon falls from his hand entirely.

He turns, slowly, to Ashe. Walks toward him. One step, two, three-four-five--

Sylvain kisses him. 

It’s the kind of kiss that steals the very breath from Ashe’s lungs, desperate and celebratory, open-mouthed and smiling. Sylvain’s arms are tight around him, a hand in his hair and at his back, and Ashe clings to him, gloved fingers dragging down his chest plate, resting on his weight, pulling him closer, closer. 

Sylvain breaks off. He rests his forehead against Ashe's, and even this close up, it’s easy to see how wild his eyes are. “We won,” Sylvain pants, breath warm and erratic. “We  _ won _ .” 

Ashe kisses him again. He’s waited too long not to, and though the victory cry draws ever closer to them, it’s drowned out by the joy he feels when he and Sylvain fall to their knees together, tears staining their cheeks as they swallow each other’s broken laughter.

* * *

The wine comes out immediately. Celebration floods the streets of Enbarr, her citizens mingling with soldiers and knights of Faerghus and Leicester (though Ashe supposes Faerghus and Leicester no longer exist as he once thought of them). It's overwhelming in the best of ways, and Ashe loves it.

It takes some time for him to push his way through the crowds and to Dimitri, to offer his congratulations and his thanks, but he makes it eventually. Dimitri thanks him in turn, and Ashe bows, only to straighten up and catch Sylvain's eye. 

He smiles, a private greeting, and Sylvain beams back. He excuses himself from Dimitri's side, steps back, and gestures for Ashe to follow him outside with a flick of the head. 

The air in the courtyard is cool, and the celebration loud. It's hard to find a secluded spot where they can speak without the noise reaching them, but somehow, Sylvain manages. 

"Years of practice," he explains as he ushers Ashe into what may have once been the groundskeepers' quarters. 

As soon as the door clicks shut behind them, Sylvain sweeps Ashe up into his arms and kisses him as if they haven’t seen each other in weeks, rather than hours. The kiss is deep, sothing, intimate - but far too brief, with Sylvain pulling away to kiss the corner of Ashe’s mouth, his cheek, his jaw. 

"S-Sylvain, wait!" Ashe’s heart beats giddily in his chest when he feels laughter against his skin, and pounds, hard and insistent against his chest, when Sylvain pulls away to look him in the eye. 

"Sorry, sorry. Couldn't help myself," he says. "You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for a chance to do that."

A part of Ash melts at those words, and he thinks he might be starting to understand just why so many girls had been drawn to Sylvain. He knows exactly what to say, and when, but Ashe won't let that distract him. 

Not yet, anyway. 

"I know," he says, reaching to brush a lock of hair away from Sylvain's eyes. His bangs are shaggy and overgrown, though Ashe's aren't much better. The war hasn't given them much time for that sort of grooming. "Is that all you dragged me away for, though?" 

"Hey!" Sylvain has the good grace to look affronted, but his tone betrays both his amusement and his insincerity. "I didn't  _ drag _ you anywhere. You followed of your own free will."

Ashe frowns. He readies himself to protest, but Sylvain cuts him off before he begins, apparently sensing Ashe's displeasure at the joke. "But… no. You're right. There's something - something I need to ask you."

He pulls away, but his hands never leave Ashe: they slide from his back to his shoulders, down his arms until he's holding both of Ashe's hands in them. There's a nervous purse to his lips - subtle, but Ashe is used to watching them, embarrassing as it may be to admit to himself - and suddenly, Ashe is nervous, too. 

The war is over. It's time for everyone to go their separate ways, to return to what their lives should have been before everything was turned upside-down. Ashe must return to Rowe, to his siblings, and Sylvain to Gautier. It fills him with an ice-cold sense of dread: could these kisses, stolen in the dark corners of a fallen emperor's palace, be both their first and their last? 

Sylvain squeezes his hands, and in one breath, changes Ashe's world. “You still want to be a knight?” 

* * *

It’s some time before Ashe can truly take Sylvain up on his offer. There are things to sort out - Dimitri’s coronation, the fate of House Gaspard, his siblings’ accommodations - and so Sylvain leaves for Gautier without him, parting ways with a kiss to the back of Ashe’s hand and a cheekily-delivered promise that he would see Ashe again soon, in his dreams. 

Ashe holds on to that promise, on to the memory of the kisses they had shared, to Sylvain breathing “Come to Gautier with me" against his lips. It feels like forever before the day arrives, but, at last, it does. 

He dismounts his horse before the gates of Castle Gautier. They part for him, metal and wood creaking. Ashe is ushered in and his horse led away to the stables by an attendant, but he’s only alone for half a moment. No sooner does he step past the threshold than he hears the voice he had been dreaming of for months.

“Ashe!” 

He turns, and there Sylvain is: bright smile, open arms, shining eyes. Ashe runs to him; Sylvain scoops him up, spins him around, laughs that beautiful laugh of his and puts him back down on his feet, but doesn’t let go. 

Ashe leans up. Sylvain glances to the side, a split second of hesitation Ashe almost doesn’t notice in his joy and promptly forgets about when, at last, they kiss. 

More than arriving in Gautier ever could, kissing Sylvain feels like coming home. 

* * *

Sylvain dismisses the attendants who offer to show Ashe around the castle, asking them instead to bring Ashe’s belongings to the knights’ quarters. 

“You’ve been given your own room, of course,” Sylvain explains as the servants bow and carry Ashe’s bags away. “But obviously you’ll be staying with me in mine.” 

Ashe can’t help but blush. “Isn’t that a bit…” 

He doesn’t finish the sentence, because truth be told, he  _ does _ want to stay with Sylvain in his room. It’s too soon for that, though, and he knows it; Sylvain does too, because not a moment later, he says, “Fine, fine. I’ll just have to sneak into your room, then. It’ll be just like old times!”

Ashe gives him a withering stare. “Old times with girls, you mean…” 

His laughter fades, but Sylvain’s grin stays firmly in place on his face. “Aw, don’t be like that. You know those days are behind me. You’re the only one for me, Ashe.” 

He does know. Scandalous as Sylvain’s habits may have been back at the academy (and even a few years into the war), there’s no doubt in Ashe’s mind that all of that is a thing of the past. 

Still, Ashe decides to have a little fun with him. He reaches up, takes Sylvain’s chin under his thumb, and says, “I’d better be.” 

That shuts Sylvain up. His cheeks redden and his eyes go wide, staying that way even after Ashe lets him go. 

“So!” Ashe starts, the smile on his face completely at odds with his joking threat, “About that tour?” 

“R-right!” Sylvain shakes his head, blinks a few times, and slips back into his usual flippant demeanor with an over-exaggerated bow. “Right this way, Sir Ashe.” 

* * *

Sylvain leads him through the halls of Castle Gautier, chattering excitedly about all his old hiding places, the secret passage to the kitchens he used to use when he was a kid looking for a snack, the ugly carpet in his father’s old study. Ashe wonders where his father must be, and if he’ll need to speak with the margrave before officially becoming his knight. Sylvain remains unusually quiet on that front, and Ashe decides not to ask. There’s plenty of time to broach the topic later.

He’s too pleased to really be bothered by it now, anyway. Sylvain holds his hand throughout the entire tour, his grip tightening every time he comes up with a particularly exciting anecdote. Ashe squeezes it back every time and laughs along with him, overjoyed to see him like this 

It’s… cute, really. Ashe can’t think of any other way to describe it. He’s never seen Sylvain so unabashedly excited about something before - nor has he ever seemed so genuine about it. Even when he’d spoken of his hopes and dreams for the end of the war, whispered over a fire late at night as the two of them kept watch, his eyes had been downcast and averted, as if he didn’t believe the war ever  _ could _ end. But now he’s smiling in the same carefree way he used to when they had been students, only it’s  _ better  _ now, because he’s not acting. 

Ashe stops him with a tug on his hand, and Sylvain jerks back almost comically. “Something the matter?” he asks. 

“No,” Ashe assures him, stepping in close. “I’m just… really happy to be here.” 

He pulls Sylvain in for a kiss, and smiles as Sylvain melts in his arms. 

* * *

They slip through a quieter part of the castle, to a hall that branches off in two directions. “My father’s chambers are that way,” Sylvain says, pointing in one direction. A look crosses his face that Ashe can’t quite place - something hesitant in the split-second twitch of his brow and purse of his lips, but the look is gone as soon as it’s spotted, replaced by a familiar smile and warm, gentle eyes. “He’ll be working right now, so best we leave that alone. Doubt he’d appreciate us snooping even if he wasn’t, though.” 

He turns and tugs Ashe in the opposite direction, eyes lighting up once more. “But that’s fine. This way’s more exciting, anyway.” 

As it turns out, past another few halls and doors are Sylvain’s chambers. They don’t spend a lot of time going over the minutiae of them (“You’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted, if you know what I mean,” Sylvain says, and Ashe rewards the innuendo with a red-faced groan); apparently, Sylvain has a surprise for him, which he decides to conclude their tour with. 

Sylvain slows to a stop in front of a large set of double doors. He turns to face Ashe with a wide, toothy grin, and gestures to the doors with his thumb. “You ready to see the best room in the whole castle?” 

He half expects this to be some kind of joke, as if the quick tour of Sylvain’s chambers were some sort of hasty lead up to Sylvain throwing open the door to his own bedroom, but when the double doors part, Ashe swallows his pre-emptive retort and stares, wide-eyed, at the huge, towering bookshelves of the Gautiers’ personal library.

“Goddess,” Ashe breathes, every bit as reverent and awed as the collection warrants. “Is this - Sylvain, did you  _ grow up _ with this?” 

“Yep.” Ashe doesn’t see the widening smile on Sylvain’s face, but he can hear it clear as birdsong in his voice. “Told you I’d saved the best for last.” 

_ Best _ is a bit of an understatement. Ashe steps forward, hand slipping out of Sylvain’s as he approaches the nearest bookshelf. He reaches out to touch one of the dusty, faded spines, but withdraws his hand before he can make contact. “Can I really…?” 

“Of course. There’s a lot of the same stuff you can find at the academy, but there are a few more specialized volumes on the history of Faerghus and a bunch of old journals from every generation of Margraves. I think they go back all the way to Gautier of the Elites.” Sylvain grins and steps forward, his voice taking on an excited lilt as he moves toward a shelf near the entrance. “There’s a whole section on Sreng, too. Here, let me…” 

He trails off, but Ashe is almost too absorbed in the library’s collection to notice. He carefully opens up one of the journals Sylvain had mentioned, eyes roving over the words greedily. He stops, however, when he reaches a paragraph describing a neighbouring lord’s daughter in…  _ very  _ loving detail. Ashe laughs and turns to jokingly ask Sylvain if this is, indeed, a family trait, but stops when he finds someone else - a man in some sort of uniform - already speaking with him. 

“Tell my father I’ll be there shortly,” Sylvain mumbles to the man, who bows and turns from the library at once. As soon as he’s gone, Sylvain is with Ashe, taking his hand and smiling wearily at him. 

“The old man wants to see me,” he explains. “You gonna be okay if I leave you alone here for a bit?” 

Ashe shakes his head. “I don’t think I’ll have enough time to cause trouble. There’s so much to read…” 

Sylvain’s laugh warms his heart, and the kiss Sylvain leaves to the back of his hand warms his cheeks. “Too bad. You know I can’t resist a bit of trouble.”

He retreats, leaving Ashe alone in the library to think about what sort of ‘trouble’ Sylvain had meant. 

He doesn’t get much reading done. 

* * *

They take dinner together, separate from the other knights, and when Ashe asks why, Sylvain simply says, “Tonight, you’re my special guest.”

They’re huddled together at the corner of the dining table, close enough Ashe can rest his hand over Sylvain’s on the polished wood and while still being able to face him. He supposes there will be lots of time to get acquainted with his fellow knights, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't happy to have some alone time with Sylvain first, so he decides not to press.

"I'm a little relieved, to be honest," he admits. Sylvain gives him a questioning look; Ashe smiles gently at him. "I really missed you, Sylvain."

The look he gets in return is so earnest, so happy, that Ashe wonders if Sylvain is about to cry. He doesn't get the chance to ask, nor to tease; they're interrupted with a knock at the door and the appearance of the servant who had called Sylvain away from the library earlier.

Sylvain pushes back from Ashe and lets go of him as if he'd been burned.

"My lord,” the man starts.

"Let me guess," Sylvain says. "My father wants to speak with me again?" He sounds annoyed. Ashe frowns, eyes darting from the servant to Sylvain.

"Yes. And he would like you to bring your friend along with you."

At that, Sylvain's expression darkens. "There's no need for that right now," he says. "Ashe has had a long day of travel and getting his bearings around the estate. You can tell my father that  _ both _ of us will be retiring for the night, and that I'll speak with him in the morning."

There's a moment of hesitation. Ashe holds his breath, as if exhaling will cause the tension in the room to snap and come crashing down around them. In the end, the butler leaves with naught but a bow and a murmured, "Very well. Enjoy your meal, my lord."

When the door closes, Sylvain turns back to Ashe. Though he's smiling, there's strain behind it, and it's jarring in its familiarity. He hasn’t looked like that since...

"Are you okay?" Ashe asks, reaching for Sylvain's hand again. It takes a second before Sylvain allows Ashe to properly hold his hand, but when their fingers lace together, Sylvain lets out a long, tired sigh.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm fine. Let's just finish up, okay? It's been a long day."

Ashe nods. He gets the feeling Sylvain is hiding something, but he decides not to push it for now. He's tired too, after all.

* * *

It's late into the night when Ashe hears a knock at his door. War has sharpened his instincts, and though he knows, logically, that he's safe within the walls of Castle Gautier, he still reaches for the dagger hidden in his bedside drawer.

"It's me," comes Sylvain's voice through the wood a moment later. Ashe tucks the dagger away, relieved, and closes the drawer.

He gets up to open the door, and Sylvain slips in with a wide, mischievous grin on his face. There's a giddy sort of pride in it, and for a moment it really does feel 'just like the old days,' as if Sylvain really is nineteen again and sneaking around the monastery, rather than twenty-six and avoiding the servants in his own home.

Ashe gently closes the door and moves to join Sylvain where he's flopped down on the bed. He hadn't been expecting a visit after they had bid each other good night, and the surprise is nice, but something nags at Ashe in the back of his mind. He can't quite put his finger on why, but he has a feeling this visit is for more than just an opportunity to see him.

"Is something the matter?" he asks, sitting down next to Sylvain and instinctively moving to pet his hair. Sylvain leans into the touch, the sheets wrinkling as he moves his head.

"No," he says, airily. "You're here; how can anything possibly be wrong?"

It's a line, and an obvious one at that; not one of his better ones, but one that he's used on countless girls before. Ashe frowns. "Sylvain."

"Hm?"

He shakes his head. "Don't lie to me. I can tell something's been bothering you; you've been acting strange all day."

Sylvain sits up. "Have I?" he asks. It's subtle, but his smile shifts to something more practiced, less relaxed. That, more than anything, warns Ashe of something deeper at play.

He folds his hands in his lap. "Yes.” And now that he's thinking of it, each and every moment comes back to Ashe with perfect clarity: Sylvain's careful, furtive glances around a room before they kissed; jumping away when they'd been walked in on; the refusal and avoidance of introducing Ashe to his father. There's only one conclusion Ashe can come to, and he feels his heart sink and turn to ice as he reaches it.

"Sylvain," he whispers, afraid to give more voice to his fears than that. "Are you... ashamed of me?"

"What?! No!" Sylvain straightens up immediately, eyes flying open. He hesitates, looking as though he can't decide if he wants to reach for Ashe or stay as far away from him as the bed will allow, but in the end, he seems to settle on the former. Ashe allows Sylvain to take his hands, but he averts his gaze, unsure if he can handle seeing a truth he doesn't want reflected back in Sylvain's eyes. "Why would I  _ ever _ be ashamed of you, Ashe?"

Unwillingly, Ashe tenses. "You wouldn't let me see the margrave when he summoned us," he says. "And all day, you would only touch me or - or kiss me, or hold me, when we were alone. Sylvain..." At last, he looks up, eyes meeting Sylvain's sternly, only for Sylvain to look away instead. "Are you embarrassed?"

Sylvain shakes his head vehemently. "No." A statement, firm and unyielding. "No, I'm not."

"Then why..."

"My father doesn't know about - about  _ us _ , okay? About this. Our relationship. My feelings." He lets go of Ashe to run a hand through his hair, mussing his bangs and sighing with frustration. "Goddess, no. I could never be embarrassed by you, or ashamed of what we have. If anything, you're too good for me. Heroic, brave, kind..."

"Sylvain." Ashe frowns. He hates when Sylvain gets like this - self-deprecating and deflecting - and he's made a point of saying so. To his credit, at least, Sylvain apologizes.

"I know. Sorry. It's just... I want to tell him. I want to tell everyone - I do. And I've tried, but... I don't know how yet." He turns his head to the ceiling, frowning up at it as if it has the answers he's looking for. "And the stupid thing is, I don't even  _ care _ about whatever he has to say. I'm not going to break up with you because you can't give me an heir, or a baby with a Crest, or whatever it is he wants from me. And even worse, I know that he'd like you. I don't know if he'd approve of... us, but if he knew you, knew what you were like and how steadfast and valiant and… and  _ knightly _ you are, then..."

"Sylvain." This time, Ashe’s voice is gentle as he interrupts Sylvain and reaches for him. He tugs on Sylvain's hand, and the shock of the motion - the force of it - snaps him out of his reverie, if only for a moment. "I understand."

"...You do?"

"Yes. Don't get me wrong; I'm not exactly happy about this, but..." Ashe shuffles closer to him and leans his head on his shoulder. "I know you're under a lot of pressure from your father, and as the heir to House Gautier. And I'm not sure I'm ready to be put in that sort of position, myself. We haven't really... been together, much, have we?"

"Not nearly as much as I'd like." Sylvain's voice takes on that distinctly flirtatious tone, and Ashe pushes his face away before he can swoop in and initiate the kiss he's no doubt about to attempt.

"I'm serious," Ashe says. "I love you, Sylvain. You know I do. But we've hardly spent any time with each other as..." 

"Lovers?"

"Yes." His face warms; Ashe would have chosen another word, since they've yet to properly consummate their relationship, what with the war and Sylvain's immediate departure for Gautier, but...

"So what you're saying is you want to take it slow," Sylvain finishes for him. "Play it cool, keep our relationship a secret, figure it out as we go."

A wave of relief washes over Ashe, and he relaxes against Sylvain (when had he gotten so tense?). "Exactly," he says. "If that's okay with you, I mean."

"You kidding?" For the first time since he'd slipped into Ashe's room, Sylvain's smile seems genuine. Excited, even. "I'm a master at keeping my relationships a secret. You have no idea how many girls I've--"

"I don't need to know, thanks," Ashe insists, glad he's able to cut Sylvain off before he gets into all the gory details.

"Right. Sorry."

Ashe tilts his head up, smile brushing against Sylvain's jaw. He kisses it, and the shiver the light press of his lips elicits makes Ashe wonder what other kinds of reactions he can get from Sylvain. He quickly pushes the thought away, though; they're taking things slow.  _ Slow _ .

"We'll figure things out as we go," he says, repeating Sylvain’s own words back to him. "How we'll make this work, how we'll tell your father... If we decide to tell him at all."

Sylvain hums. "And in the meantime?" He slips out from under Ashe, careful to hold him steady as he turns on the bed so that they can face one another. He's got that look in his eye again, the one Ashe loves so much, the one that means he's cooking up some sort of insidious and lascivious plan.

And this time, Ashe leans into it. He cups Sylvain's face in one hand and pulls him forward, just the slightest bit. "In the meantime, we can get a head start on deciding where to go from here."

He meets Sylvain halfway, kissing him softly and closing his eyes as a hand slides into his hair. They may not have all the answers yet, but Ashe is content all the same. 

They have plenty of time.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and think you might like to see more, have a chat, or would like to get to know me, please check out my twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r).
> 
> And if you would like to find out how to support me, I have a handy list of links right [here](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r/status/1355219789560471554). Please check it out! I wouldn't be able to do this without people like you supporting me. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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